Free Border Lord by Arnette Lamb Page B

fingers. Pebbles rattled nearby. In a spray of rocks, the sleuthhound raced to her side.
    Duncan held out his hand to the dog, but his eyes stayed fixed on the woman. "My stock in trade is pigs, not peacocks."
    "Shame on you, Ian. You shouldn't mock Lord Duncan just because he's different from you."
    Aha! Now he was getting somewhere. If he could keep her defending the bumbling earl, the Border Lord might distract her enough to glean her plans, earn her patronage, then facilitate her swift departure. "I was simply laughing at the idea of me delivering a pair of peacocks."
    "How did you know he's expecting
two
peacocks?"
    She was as sharp as a barrister at the court of Lincoln's Inn. But Duncan Kerr would not play the harried victim in the witness box. "Why are you so suspicious? 'Twas a logical assumption, Miriam. He's distraught over the loss of his birds, which he breeds with some success. His last cock could pounce on a peahen and give her his finest before she could scratch in the dirt."
    She gasped. "If you're not here to deliver peacocks, why are you visiting the earl?"
    "I doona think I should tell you. Duncan's a very private person."
    "I'm surprised he would mention the birds, then—if he's such a private person."
    "We shared a glass of wine, which makes him
less
private."
    "Meaning…"
    Blessed Scotland, she was persistent. "I'm not a gossiping stable lad. I prefer to make my own scandals."
    "That's no explanation."
    He sighed and, feigning reluctance, said, "If you must know, the earl has no tolerance for strong drink." Let her do with that tidbit what she would.
    "Thank you for telling me. I won't gift him with any of the fine wines I brought from Europe. Actually…" She shooed the dog away. "You could prevent me from making any number of faux pas by telling me more about Lord Duncan." She snuggled closer.
    If he weren't careful, she'd have him choosing the stones for his own cairn. But he knew she was trying to distract him with sex, and he rather liked the idea of holding her again. "Are you still cold?"
    "A bit. I should go in, I suppose."
    Propriety demanded she make such a statement, but decorum had no place in the life of the Border Lord. Not when he had the queen's beautiful minion exactly where he wanted her.
    Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he brought her to his side and drew the cape around them. "'Tis early, Miriam, and you have nothing to fear from me. I am interested in the 'matters' that brought you to the Border."
    "'Twould bore you to tears."
    Would she never talk about herself or mention the Treaty of Utrecht or her role in the affairs of England? The mediators before her had rambled for hours on their accomplishments. Ah, well, perhaps her career was a topic for the bumbling earl to broach. For the moment, Duncan would learn what he could. "Beautiful women never bore me. Give over, Miriam. Tell me why you've come to Kildalton."
    She cleared her throat. "Do you know Baron Sinclair?"
    "Aye, I know the man." He kept his voice even, but his stomach pitched in anticipation of her next words.
    "Then I'd like your opinion of his quarrel with the earl."
    She could set verbal traps with the skill of a gamekeeper. Hoping to divert her attention, Duncan began to stroke her arm. Even through the thick gloves, he felt her warmth. He wanted to touch his skin to hers, but if he removed the gloves, she'd notice the blisters on his palms.
    "I understand your hesitance to discuss Lord Duncan's enemy. May my hair turn white and my scribes run off with lightskirts tomorrow if I don't." Her hand settled gently on his knee. "Please believe it's important that I know all sides of the quarrel. I commend you for speaking up."
    Lulled by the tone of her voice and the eloquence of her plea, Duncan scrambled for a reply. "They'll never reach accord," he said. "Not while both of them live."
    "I know how much you want to put the matter behind you. Life is too short and unpredictable for petty annoyances and feuding